Crush by Phoef Sutton

Author:Phoef Sutton [Sutton, Phoef]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781938849374
Publisher: Prospect Park Books

Bob Steinkellner was dying. He was dying in the show business sense, since his balloon tricks had already cleared half the kids from the room. And he was dying in the spiritual sense, since he was performing magic at children’s parties and living in a studio apartment off Yucca that his parole officer called “the worst piece of shit place” he’d ever set foot in. (And presumably a parole officer’s feet knew shit when they stepped in it.) And, finally, he was dying in the literal sense, since he’d been diagnosed with a particularly virulent strain of follicular lymphoma, which, his doctor assured him, could be treated by chemotherapy—chemotherapy that Steinkellner couldn’t afford and that he didn’t really want. Right now, his full head of hair was the only blessing he had.

He finished two tricks early. The kids, looking slack-jawed and bored since they couldn’t control him with a remote, ran off to beat a SpongeBob piñata to death, and Steinkellner packed his scarves and cards and Dove Pans and Chinese Wands and Rubber Ropes and Professor’s Nightmare and Milk Pitcher and Needle Thru Balloon Trick and Hippy Hop Rabbits and Torn and Restored Newspaper and Mouth Coil and Egg Bag and Breakaway Wand and Magic Coloring Book neatly in his black carrying cases. He had another party to perform at in an hour. In Alhambra. Death couldn’t come soon enough, he thought.

And he was only partly joking.

“Mr. Steinkellner?” The man who addressed him was a very unpleasant-looking fellow indeed. Dressed in a dark blue windbreaker, black slacks, and white shirt, he looked like a rent-a-cop who’d just taken off his tie to try to blend in with the crowd.

“Don’t you mean Steiny the Magnificent?” Steinkellner replied wearily.

“We need to go somewhere and talk, Mr. Steinkellner.”

“I don’t think we do. At least I don’t.”

“How long have you been out of prison, Mr. Steinkellner?”

Steiny the Magnificent looked around—it didn’t do well to let people know that their children’s party entertainment was a convicted felon. No one had heard. No one was sticking around to ask for his autograph.

“You want to keep it down?” Steinkellner asked the man.

“I will. If you’ll answer a few questions.”

“Are you a cop? You have to tell me if you are.”

“It’s about Walter Trask.”

“So you’re not a cop. And I don’t have to talk to you.”

“You do if you want to avoid a scene.”

Steinkellner sighed. Yeah, he wanted to avoid a scene. “Okay. I read about Walter Trask. I thought it was too bad.”

“What was too bad, Mr. Steinkellner?”

“Too bad the wrong brother killed himself.”

“Did he?”

Steinkellner hefted his heavy carrying cases and headed for the back door. “Look, I gotta be at the Chungs’ house for little Brandon’s fifth birthday in a half hour. You want to tag along, that’s fine with me. Misery loves company.”

“Mr. Steinkellner,” the man was doing a fine impression of Jack Webb, “did you murder Walter Trask? And did you attempt to murder Amelia Trask by blowing up her house?”

Steinkellner sighed and thought about the trip to Alhambra.

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